


We Shall Not Suffer a Witch

by Lady_Impala



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Backstory, Kidnapping, Murder, Violence, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 14:06:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9185011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Impala/pseuds/Lady_Impala
Summary: How did Mary Lou Barebone come to adopt her oldest son, Credence? A look at that fateful night, where one overzealous woman took matters into her own hands.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very violent piece, showing the graphic depiction of a murder. Know that going in. Comments appreciated, as always!

Darkness clung to the city of New York like a thick blanket, heavier in the lower east side of Manhattan. Street lights were fewer and farther between on the blocks where the city cared less about its residents. It was on such a street where Mary Lou Barebone found herself, well past the hours of civilized awakeness. She stood alone in the shadows, beady eyes trained on the still-lit open window of an apartment on an upper floor. The soft spring breeze fluttered sheer curtains that blurred the movements of the resident, a single woman with a young child. Her movements suggested to her audience that she was soothing her child back to sleep; a young boy of approximately four years old. 

He was who Mary Lou was here for. 

At long last, the lights dimmed, and the shadow of the woman disappeared. The waiting was torturous, but Mary Lou wanted to ensure the she was asleep before she embarked on her mission. Clutched in one hand was a small burlap sack, bulging oddly as she shifted her grip. After several agonizing minutes, confident that no one was watching, she snugged her hat down tighter onto her head and made for the building. 

Scaling the fire escape was simple enough, the sack bumping against her leg as she climbed. This late at night, her risk of discovery was low, so within moments, she perched outside the apartment she'd been watching. The window had been left open, a sign of the arrogance of people like the woman living here. It slid open silently, and Mary Lou ducked inside, freezing once again as she crouched on the floor. 

The living room looked basic enough; a couch, a coffee table, pictures on the wall, a fireplace on one side. It was, she noted, a remarkably large fireplace with a jar of bright green powder up on top of the mantle. Curiosity got the better of her, and she picked it up carefully. The texture was strange between her fingers, cold and gritty like salt. It had no smell that she could detect, so she set the glass jar back on the mantle and looked at the pictures dotted alongside. 

She barely managed to stifle a shriek as the picture _moved_. 

Heart pounding, Mary Lou stared as if transfixed. It was the woman who lived here, trim and beautiful and smiling as she lifted her young son up into her arms for a hug. He was small for his age, with wide eyes in a delicate, pale face with sharp features and full lips that smiled brightly as he giggled with his mother. A shock of black hair fell across his face with unkempt curl, and he flung his arms around her neck with abandon. 

"Such innocence," she whispered into the silence, crossing herself and steeling her nerves. With only one backward glance over her shoulder, Mary Lou tightened her grip on the burlap sack and moved towards the bedroom. 

The apartment was small, with just the living room, a small kitchen, and a single bedroom down the short hall. Dim lights along the walls helped Mary Lou see enough to avoid the small toys that scattered the floor, evidence of the young boy. She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the chaos; yet another strike against her, a clear sign that she did not value a clean home. The bedroom door had been left slightly ajar, revealing a small room with one large bed, no trundle bed in sight for the boy. 

They _shared_ the bed. 

Mary Lou recoiled with a quiet hiss, mortified to find such goings-on. She swallowed back revulsion and pushed the door open wider. It creaked on the hinges, and she sucked in a sudden breath, afraid she'd been caught. But no movement came from the bed. Only the soft sound of a child's snores, and the deeper breathing of his mother. Exhaling softly, she moved further into the room, looking not at the bed, but the ceiling. 

There. A wide beam that looked like it would be strong enough. One hand reached into her burlap sack and withdrew a noose. She let the bag fall to the floor with a soft thump, then stood up on the large wooden chest at the end of the bed. Keeping one eye on the sleeping occupants, she tossed the end of the rope over the beam, tying it securely and tugging once to make sure it would hold. Satisfied with her work, Mary Lou stepped down and collected the bag from the floor before crossing to the mother's side. 

Asleep as they were, they looked so...normal. Faces relaxed in sleep, bodies at ease, she could have almost believed they were just like her. But it only took one look at another of those damnable moving pictures to know that was not the case. No, this was a house of demons and devils, where Satan ran free, and corrupted the innocent. Her gaze shifted to the boy, sprawled limply across the bed with his fingers tangled in his mother's soft brown curls. 

For him. She was doing this for _him_. 

"Dear Lord," she began, voice just above a soft whisper as she slowly opened the sack in her hands, "I act on your behalf. I pray you guide my hands this night. For it was you who said we shall not suffer a witch to live." With an abrupt movement, she shoved the bag over the woman's head, startling her awake. 

Long fingers clawed desperately at the bag over her head, legs flailing as she attempted to get purchase in the twist of sheets around her feet. Panic gave her incredible strength, but Mary Lou had the advantage of leverage and surprise. She yanked hard on her, dragging her to the floor with a loud crash that knocked over the bedside table. Picture frames and a book scattered across the ground, tripping Mary Lou and bringing her down hard. Her diatribe was cut short with a whoosh of gasped air, and she nearly lost her grip on the bag. 

In the cacophonous noise, the young boy was also scared awake. He sat up straight in bed, eyes wide as he watched the women struggle on the floor. He made no noise, no tears fell, he simply stared, confused. After a long moment, he asked softly, "Mama?" 

The sudden change in tone stilled both women. Mary Lou stared up at him, nodding once. "It's alright, sweet boy. I'm here to protect you." 

"Mama?" He asked again, voice stronger. That seemed to shake his mother to action, and she fought back with renewed vigor. Her sharp nails dug into Mary Lou's wrist, cutting deep and drawing blood. 

She shouted in pain and cuffed her hard on the side of the head. The blow stilled her momentarily, giving Mary Lou the opportunity to rise on unsteady feet and drag her up with her. Blood dripped down her arm, smearing across the struggling woman's nightgown. She was beginning to scream, which was going to wake the neighbors and cause trouble. "By the power vested in me by our Lord and Savior," she continued somewhat breathlessly as she shoved the woman towards the rope, "I condemn you to hang. A man or woman...who is a medium...oof!...of necromancer...shall be...put to _death!_." 

Through sheer force of will, Mary Lou managed to pull the woman, bag still in place over her face, up onto the chest. The noose was tugged down around her neck, which sparked off a renewed struggle and louder screams. The boy had joined the chaos, crawling from the bed and pressing himself tightly into the corner of the room even as he wept, "Mama, mama!" over and over. Tears streamed down his face, and his narrow shoulders shook with the force of his terror. 

Rope firmly in place, Mary Lou gripped the back of the woman's head in a suddenly fierce grip, forcing her still with shock and pain. "May God have mercy on your soul," she hissed into her ear, the sound sharp in the sudden silence. One heartbeat, two, then she shoved her off the chest. An ugly, wet snap filled the air, her body twitching for several seconds before falling still. 

Breathing heavily, Mary Lou stepped off the chest and steadied herself on the footboard. She looked up at the corpse that dangled from the ceiling, crossing herself again before she moved to kneel in front of the panicked boy. He tried to scramble further away, as if to disappear into the wall. "Hush now, sweet boy, hush," she whispered, one hand reaching carefully forward. "It's alright, boy, I'm here to help you. Can you tell me your name?" 

Pale as a ghost, the child looked between the woman crowding into his space, and his mother, who didn't look right. The stranger's voice pulled his focus back, and he shook his head uncertainly. "That's alright, we'll just give you a new name." Her hand was quick as a snake as she reached out and grabbed a hold of his wrist. Her fingers were firm, almost painful as she pulled him towards her. She brushed the tears from his face almost tenderly, but there was something...wrong about the touch. "Credence. How does that sound? Credence. That's a strong name for a strong boy. You are my proof that this is truth." One hand gripped the back of his head, shaking just a little. "Credence. My son." 

Rising again, she scooped him up in her arms, pressing his face against her shoulder. "Come along. Let's get you away from this sinful place. I'll take care of you now." He peeked up over the edge of her heavy jacket as she carried him from the room, watching as his mother swayed just a little at the end of the rope.


End file.
